


Uneven Odds

by killaidanturner



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, honestly just like I swear its not a shitty crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 15:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5971444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killaidanturner/pseuds/killaidanturner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a well known smuggler from the planet Korlings, Aidan is one of the best pilots in the galaxy working for the Resistance. When the First Order starts recruiting smugglers, mercenaries, and thieves they look to the best in the galaxy leaving Dean up to a mission to steal a fleet from the First Order base. He just may have failed to mention to the Resistance that he's a terrible pilot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pacific Blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlmarvel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarvel/gifts).



> Erica and I went back and forth for a bit with aidean star wars headcanons and well now theres a plot and a whole entire fic in progress and I just hope I do this whole idea justice cause Erica is my bro. I posted the first two chaps on tumblr but its turning into a real thing so I am moving it here. The first two chapters are a little more fast paced because they are more like character backstory.

 

Green. Aidan is two when he learns this word. He is five when he understands it.  **  
**

He remembers standing out on the rocks, smooth grey pebbles under his feet, worn down by water. One of his mother’s arms around his waist while her free hand was tracing patterns in the water. The small waves lapping away at their skin.

 

“This is the color green Aidan. It’s not typical for water but it’s special to our planet. You will never see another color green like it, not in the water, not on trees or bushes.”

 

“Green.” Aidan repeated the word as he crouched down so his fingers could touch the water. It was cool against his skin and sent small shivers down his spin. “Green.” He repeated as he stuck his whole hand in the water.

 

“Yes, sweetheart, green. This green is ours, it’s special, just like you.” She took a wet finger and touched Aidan’s nose causing him to scrunch it up and giggle.

 

He learned that there were many different names for the color green. Names like chartreuse, juniper, fern, emerald, seafoam. There were uglier words to him like asparagus and sap. He thought he liked the word seafoam best as a child, that there was something calming to it.  As he got older he would bring different green items to the water, sometimes they were spare parts from a ship, sometimes a leaf, and he would hold them against the water but he never found another color like it. He figures the closest he ever got was forest green or perhaps emerald. 

 

“Why is it green?” Aidan was around eight when he asked his mother this.

 

“Because greens means growth, it helps things grow like plants. It helps things survive.”

 

“Is it going to help me grow?”

 

“Of course it is, it’s going to make you very big! So big what I wont be able to pick you up!” His mother reached down, her hands under his arms as she picked him up and wrapped him in her arms.

 

* * *

Bestine IV was home. It was an industrial mess at times with its massive shipyard and the labor level that they were expected to make fleets and repairs to ships, but everything about it was home to Aidan. From the grey hues of metal, to the grey on the pebbles at the beach, to the vast green waters that surrounded the small slivers of land.

 

Years passed and every day Aidan would walk down to the shore, he would trace patterns in the water and watch the way that water eroded, how it changed the landscape around them. Sometimes he would leave objects shoved between the rocks, just to watch what the water would do to them.

 

He worked down at the shipyard, a place where they repaired ships for the Galactic Alliance. He learned all the different ships names, every part that was placed in them, every color wire. He knew the inside of a T-65 X-Wing better than the lines on his hand. He could tell you where every button was in a X-83 TwinTail.

 

When the Alliance started looking to pilots for recruitment Aidan was the first to join.

 

“You think just because you can build it that you can fly it?” The recruiting officer was cocky, his eyebrows raised in question.

 

“Four fusial thrust engines? 3,700 Gs max acceleration? Yeah, I can fly it.” Aidan gave as good as he got. He jumped into the cockpit, his hands new to the situation.

 

“You got this Aid, not a problem. You know the theory behind it, it can’t be that hard.”

 

* * *

“I’ll miss you.”

 

“And I’ll miss you more.” Aidan kissed his mother's forehead, her dark hair falling in curls around her face. Her eyes welled with tears, causing them to shine as she smiled.

 

“Oh stop it, you’re making me cry.” 

 

“Hey, let's go down to the beach since I won't be able to do it for a while.”

 

“I would like that.”

 

* * *

“Do you remember what I said to you when you were younger?”

 

“That I would never see another green like it.” Aidan smiled as he picked up a pebble, skimming it across the surface of the currently calm water. 

 

“You’ll see a lot of planets out there Aidan, you’ll leave the Inner Rim, you may even have to leave our galaxy. I just want you to know that you’ll never see a green like this.”

 

“I know.” Aidan smiled at her, his smile was bright, it was always bright for her, crinkled eyes and all teeth.

 

* * *

It was the last time that Aidan saw her.

 

After her death he never went back to Bestine IV but he always missed the waters.

 

* * *

 

**Now**

 

“This will be your standard issue droid.” A small ball rolled forth to Aidan, a smaller half circle on top where the droid’s photoreceptor and radar eye were located. “This model is the L3-7.” 

 

“Got it.” Aidan said as the ball rolled towards his feet and looked up at him. 

 

* * *

“You’re very grey, you look just like all the other pilot’s droids. What if I lose you?” Aidan is sitting in his room, L3-7 on top of the desk in front of him. The droid beeps at him, what he failed to tell his commanding officer was that he speaks droid very fluently, a by product of working in an industrial shipyard.

 

“Oh I won't huh?” Aidan laughs as he replies to the droid. “Well how about I add a little bit of color to you, make it that much hard to lose you, yeah?”

 

L3-7 beeps happily at his new pilot and when Aidan translates what the droid has said he realizes that he has called him friend.

 

* * *

Aidan sits with L3-7 in between his legs and a small paintbrush in between his fingers. “I probably could have taken you down to maintenance and had them do this, but thought it would be better if I did it myself.” His moves are gentle and focused as he traces the lines on his droid.

 

“My mother used to tell me that there was no green in the galaxy like the green on our home planet. I believe her, I don’t think I will ever see another color like it. Though I’ve only been here a few months and there’s still so many planets that I haven’t been too.” 

 

L3-7 makes a long drawn out beep, its octave lower.

 

“What was it like? Incredible. Sometimes when the sun would be setting the tide would rise and push these massive waves up towards the sky,” Aidan pulls away from the droid with the paintbrush still in his hand as he mimics the size of the wav, “you could see right through the water and into the sky if the light was hitting it right. I’ve never seen anything like it. All the planets I’ve been too so far have blue water. Blue! Can you believe it?” Aidan laughs as L3-7 makes a comment about not liking the color blue. 

 

“I think we’ll get on just fine.”

  
  
  



	2. The Sea of Atlas

 

 

Dean dreamed of the vastness of space, the distance between planets and stars. He dreamed of how the light would look passing over a ship as it went into lightspeed, if he would be able to feel the pull of the galaxy. He dreamed of starfighters and the legend of jedis that was nothing but whispers between school children now. He spent his time learning the planets of the Outer and Inner Rim. He learned about creatures and different things like smugglers, scavengers, pirates. It fascinated him that there was potential to be these things, that he could be something wild and almost feral. It was vastly different to his own life, a life of rules and dictations. **  
**  


 

* * *

 

“Sit up straight.”

 

* * *

 

“Chin up, head held high.”

 

* * *

 

“Don’t chew with your mouth open.”

 

* * *

 

“Please go change into your formal attire, I will not have any son of mine wearing commoners clothes at a dinner event.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s important that you learn treaties between the planets, it will do you well to get into politics when you’re older. Our planet will need a representative in the Alliance and you would do your family proud if you were to be elected.”

 

* * *

 

“There’s no such thing as jedis, those are old tales to tell children at night. All there is is the Alliance, that’s what you need to focus on.”

 

* * *

 

“Dean, Korlings has many noble families and you should be grateful that you are one of them. You keep disgracing us by running around with the children from down by the industrial yard.”

 

* * *

 

“I will hear no more talk of this Wild Space, there is nothing out there Dean and if there was it is not for someone of noble blood to explore. That will be left to trained members of the Alliance. If you are so concerned about the unknown areas out there then perhaps you should be focusing on your studies instead of dreaming up being a smuggler or worse, a pirate.”

 

* * *

Dean was from one of the many noble families on the planet Korlings, not as noble as he parents wanted to be but enough so that their family name held meaning on the planet. He was the only son to a politically wealthy family, a family who dreamed that Dean would take a position in the Galactic Senate and move them all to the Senate’s home planet of Hosnian Prime. With so much pressure on him from a young age he barely knew who he was, just a collection of things other people wanted him to be. Straight posture and well spoken words, just a shell.

 

Ever since Dean was young he dreamed of bigger and braver things. He made his own toys, small models of starfighters and other species, things that he wasn’t allowed to spend time dwelling on.

 

He never cared for the words and agreements spoken between other planets, but instead dreamed of what laid beyond the Outer Rim, of what unknown planets and creatures were out there in Wild Space.

 

Dean’s home planet was rumored to be the birthplace of the notorious space pirate Faarl who had taken planets by the time he was twenty. He was a thing of legend among the boys at school, boys who held onto adventure and wished their circumstances required less learning and more fun.

 

In a few ways Dean was like the infamous pirate, he gathered many loyal friends at an early age who would do anything for him. He would spend his days telling them stories, and crafting out elaborate plans. He tested his own intelligence and their allegiance one day but stealing a statue from the cities local branch of senate. They were to be doing a school tour when the boys broke off in different groups. They were swift and quiet and it was then that Dean knew he could be something other than what he was being told to do.

 

Time went on and he hatched bigger schemes and recruited more people to follow.

 

By the time he was eighteen he had about fifteen people following his command, a whole group of men who dubbed themselves smugglers. Dean would claim to his parents that he would be traveling to the next nearby planet to spend time learning their own political system and learning the names of those of influence there. He would smile and listen to their words of praise and encouragement.

 

Later when he would be in his ship, on the way to an Inner Rim planet to move merchandise he would smile even more knowing that they had no idea. He would look out at the sky with a smile on his faces, at the planets and stars and watch as they turned into unattainable light as his starship went into lightspeed.

 

He became well known for his business, he was good at navigating and coming up with routes that most others could not see. He was a mapmaker of sorts, charting the unknown. That’s the thing though, he was a good navigator but he was not a good pilot. He could see things that most people didn’t look at but the second he was asked to sit in the pilot’s chair he would graciously bow out and leave it to one of his crew members.

 

Dean was efficient, he never had a bad job. Ok that was a lie, jobs went bad all the time but Dean could talk himself out of them. Sometimes he owed money to people, sometimes artifacts, sometimes strange almost untamable creatures from other planets. His reputation spread throughout the Korling system quickly, his name passed around in cantinas and back alleyways, between villages and scavengers who would seek him out with things they had found.

 

He loved his reputation and the things that it gave him. He would see the whispers when he would step into a seedy establishment, he liked that others knew his name and the things that he was capable of.

 

By the time his business was in full gear he stopped going home to Korlings and was disowned by his parents. They were more concerned about their name being disgraced by his reputation. It was freeing to him in a way to no longer be held down by their expectations but instead to be allowed to live freely. He supposed that was it was, being free and he liked the idea of it very much.

 

By the time he was in his later twenties he was one of the best known smugglers in the galaxy. Though others would debate “best known” to just plain “known”.

 

“You need it, you got it. 50,0000 credits and I’ll move it for you.” Dean leaned back in his chair at the cantina, a drink held loosely in his left hand, his right hand resting on his belt close to his gun.

 

“50,000 you’re insane O’Gorman. It’s not worth nearly that much.”

 

“Really? Do you want to be the one moving a shit ton of neebrays out of their environment?  I’ve moved asteroids with exgeroths on them, I’d like you to find another smuggler in this galaxy who can do what I can do.”

 

“Fine, 25,000 units now and 25,000 credits when you’re done.”

 

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

“Alright boys, we got a new job.”

 

Dean explained the plan to his crew, the collection of the creatures and moving them to a planet on the Outer Rim for an unknown collector.

 

What he wasn’t expecting was their ship being intercepted and brought on board to a massive Alliance vessel carrier.

 

“You know the drill.” Dean stated as he put his arms in the air with his crew members behind him. It wasn’t the first time they had been caught and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be their last. Usually he was good at moving out of spots that were known to the Alliance, where they tried to enforce policies upon them.

 

The door to his ship opened only for him to be welcomed by a group of Resistance members and not by members of the Alliance. Dean quickly put his surrendering arms down as he took in the few members in front of him.

 

“Resistance? Thought you all were few and far between these days, glad to see you got yourselves a nice Alliance vessel though, must have done a bit of smuggling for that.” Dean grinned at the commander in front of him, a smaller woman with lines of worry etched in her features and graying hair.

 

“It was a favor from a friend.”

 

“Some big favor.” Dean looked around the hanger at the smaller ships that the vessel carried, it was filled with starfighters but one of the X-Wings stood out to him, it was the only one painted green instead of orange. He looked at it for a moment longer before turning back.

 

“I am in need of your assistance, unfortunately your skills are needed in a very important situation.” Her tone was steady and commanding.

 

“My base salary is 10,000 credits. I move up from there depending on what is required of me.” Dean moved rested his hands on his waist, underneath his jacket as he waited for a reply.

 

“I won’t be paying your prices, but you are going to want to listen to what I have to say."

 

* * *

 

Dean made an agreement with the General, that he would listen to her plan as long as she was amenable to listening to any changes he would need to make along the way.

 

Him and a few of his selected crew members were to undergo training given to them by the Resistance, basic fighting maneuvers, which Dean thought were pointless, he had been in more than enough fights in his lifetime. He was trained in how to act, what would be expected of him in his new role. He was trained how to use the technology in the First Order and where some of their outposts were along with their main base.

 

“The First Order will be contacting you. They want anyone on their side that they can get. When they come to you, say yes. Once you do just know that they won’t let you be apart of this little business you have going on anymore, you’ll be moved in as a ranking officer and they will do everything they can do bend you to their will. Do it, put on a good show for them.”

 

“How do you know any of this?”

 

“One of my men died getting this information, I am trying to see to it that as ambiguous as your morals may be that they do not fall to the First Order. You can collect information for us and most importantly you can steal one of their fleets for us.”

 

Dean smirked at the General, “oh that I can definitely do.”

 


	3. Hit or Miss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t know that the First Order employed mercenaries.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Oh dear they employ all sorts of our kind.”

Dean sits in a cantina on Nar Shaddaa, a moon in the Outer Rim. The moon was home to various criminals in the galaxy. The cities on the moon were basked in a smoke filled neon glow, electric signs floating outside of various establishments offering such things as drug dens and exoctic dancing, just a glimpse into the seedy under dealings the moon was used to. A home for smugglers, bounty hunters, and thieves.

 

Dean relaxes his shoulders and leans back into the seat, his eyes scanning the bar. He tapped his feet to the music, a group was on stage in the cantina playing a various arrangement of musikant instruments.

 

“I don’t feel very comfortable here.” Adam gripps onto his drink with both hands, his back to the bar and his eyes on Dean. Adam with his small frame, thin limbs and wide brown eyes. He looks out of place, then again he has always looked a tad out of place on Dean’s crew but that never bothered Dean, not when Adam was one of the smartest bookies around.

 

Dean on the other hand, despite the circumstances, felt very comfortable. His eyes watched the women who passed their table, their different skin tones, greens, pinks, and blues, and how they reflected in the dim lights of the bar. He thinks that he would be able to enjoy it a bit more if he knew most of the women here weren’t apart of the slave trade.

 

“We’re in Hutta Town, of course you don’t feel comfortable. Grakkus no longer rules these parts, just one of his henchman thinking that the Hutt name still means something.” Dean adjusts his vest, concealing his holster and blaster pistol.

 

“Grakkus had a vast collection of Jedi artifacts, it’s what Darth Vader wanted to destroy,” Adam, filled with his vast knowledge of history, of legends and things lost to most people starts ranting about the history of the moon they are on. 

 

“-and not all of them were destroyed, according to us.” Dean pulls a holocron from inside of his vest pocket, small, bronze looking with ornate swirls and in the shape of a square.

 

“Is that a holocron?” Adam sets his drink down, his fingers lingering over the square.

 

“It is.”

 

“You didn’t tell me this was part of the plan!” Adam glares at Dean who is grabbing the holocron and placing it back in his pocket. It was on the table long enough for a few wandering eyes to look, exactly how it wanted it.

 

Dean quickly leans forward, his voice low as he talks to Adam across the table. “Listen to me carefully, you know most of the plan, the First Order is on the lookout for us for some sort of recruitment. If they find out we have something worth value, something like Jedi teachings, it will give us a better reputation among them. Don’t make me talk about this shit here, it’s too dangerous.” Dean looks at the few patrons of the bar who are now watching all of their movements. Dean tosses up a hand to signal a waitress and leans back into his seat.

 

“Sorry,” Adam mumbles before knocking back the rest of his drink.

 

Dean orders them another round of drinks. As soon as the waitress heads over to the bar a woman in an all black leather outfit slinks into their booth. Her hair is wrapped in leather and her makeup is done in dark colors, thick overly ached black eyebrows turn her face into something stark and all sharp angles. Dean looks her up and down and then looks away.

 

“And what would a mercenary want with a smuggler?”

 

“You know of me then?” Her voice is smooth, low and catching on it’s vowels.

 

“Bazine Netal.” His voice is disconnected when he says it, emphasizing on his disinterest in her and the matter at hand.

 

She smiles, her grin catlike as her hand reaches out across the table to his. “I’ve been sent to speak to you, it has come to the First Order’s attention that you may have something of value to them.”

 

“I didn’t know that the First Order employed mercenaries.”

 

“Oh dear they employ all sorts of our kind.” Her long black painted nails trace a pattern on the back of his hand. He keeps his movements still as he lets her play her game.

 

“You saying they have room for a smuggler and his no-good crew?” Dean puts on another mask as he smirks at her, one eyebrow raised in question.

 

“They take care of us you know.” Bazine turns his hand over in hers, her nails tracing the lines in his palm. His body involuntarily shivers, giving her grin even more of a wicked tilt to it.

 

Adam looks between the two of them, he reaches over their arms and grabs his drink, slurping it through his straw until it makes an unbearably loud noise when there is nothing left in it. They both look at Adam who shrugs innocently and sets his drink down.

 

“What?”

 

Dean mouths a silent thank you to Adam.

 

Bazine rolls her eyes, “why in the galaxy they want the rest of your crew is beyond me.”

 

“That is up to the First Order and thankfully not questionable mercenaries.”

 

The waitress returns with their new drinks and Dean downs his glass in one go, his eyes never leaving Bazine.

 

“Are you doubting my allegiance to the First Order?” Her spine straightens, her cat like movements more alert.

 

“I’m just stating that whoever offers you the most credits is probably a winner.” He sets his glass down, his knee slightly shaking under the table. He didn’t expect to need liquid courage to get through this.

 

“I would say the same for you smuggler.” Her grin is back in place and her movements more languid. “Come with me, they have much to discuss with you.”

 

* * *

 

What Dean wasn’t expecting was the General to be the one to speak to him.

 

“I admire your strategy. My father was a great strategist, it was one of the reasons why he was so well known in the Republic but switched his loyalties to the First Order once he realized the values that we uphold.” General Hux stands with his hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders squared and his back straight. His pale skin stands out against his black attire, his high collared black shirt and his vivid red hair. “We need strategist here in the First Order and it has come to my attention that you’re one of the best navigators in the galaxy.”

 

“I wouldn’t say one of the best.” Dean puts on his air of casual charm. He silently thanks the few drinks he has prior to this encounter. 

 

“What would you call it then?” General Hux’s movements are all militant, his feet move in specific measures as he paces around the small room that is off to the side of the bar. He looks out of place compared to the bright and grungy surroundings that the cantina has to offer.

 

“The best.” Dean smirks up at the General who takes a moment to force a smile in return.

 

“I heard that you navigated a whole fleet through Resistance territory without their knowledge.” A carefully crafted lie by the leader of the Resistance.

 

“I look in the places that no one else thinks.”

 

“And that is exactly why we need someone with your specific skill set.” General Hux looks between Adam and Dean, his stature stays the same, hands behind back and his head held high. "Bazine says that you have a holocron. The First Order would very much appreciate that you hand the item over to us." It's not a request and Dean knows it. He takes the square out of his vest pocket and sets it on the table between them. "How did you come to be in possession of such an artifact?" General Hux goes to pick up the square but before his fingers reach it, it turns on its side in an attempt to get out of his grasp. He steps back before quickly reaching out and snatching the holocron up in his hands. 

 

"In my line of work you come in contact with a lot of different types and you make a lot of deals. Just so happens that I found this back on Jakku, got it in exchange for moving some contraband. They obviously didn't know what it was worth." Dean taps the table with a finger for emphasis. It's a lie, a well crafted one that will send them back to a planet with no leads and searching in the wrong place. 

 

"Most of these are said to be lost, destroyed. I can only imagine what may be on this one, what sort of supreme teachings the Jedi supposed they had captured in a hologram." General Hux lifts up the box as if holding it up will reveal the secrets that lay inside. What he doesn't know is that the hologram is well placed, a decoy in place of the previous teachings that were on it. 

 

"Perhaps if you find someone who wields the force than you can find out." Dean smirks up at him, his lips quirking up at one side. He knows of the rumors, knows that they are on the hunt for Luke Skywalker, knows that there are very little in existence that would even be able to get that holocron open.

 

* * *

 

“It’s a bit uncomfortable is what it is.” Adam pulls at his uniform, tight black pants and shirt that he keeps pulling at the collar and moving his neck.

 

“It’s going to be if you keep messing with it.” Dean finished putting on his uniform, lacing up his boots. He looks at himself in the mirror, his outfit similar to the General’s.

 

“So what are we again exactly?”

 

“You know for being so good with numbers you baffle me at the other subjects you’re lacking in, like listening.” Dean sighs and shoots Adam a look that causes his friend to blush and put on a sheepish demeanor. “General Hux, living in his father’s ever present shadow, has taken it upon himself to create his own branch within the First Order, similar to what his father had done. We report directly to him, we do as he says. They’re getting their military fleets from somewhere, their ships are more advanced than anything being produced in shipyards right now. It’s our mission to figure out how and where these are coming from and take a few of them off to our actual General.” Dean uses his hand to mimic a flying motion.

 

“But you’re a terrible pilot.” Adam cuts into Dean’s demonstration.

 

Dean drops his hands in disappointment, “you didn’t have to hurt me like that.”

 

“It’s the truth!”

 

“Well I didn’t exactly mention that to General Organa so we’ll get to that obstacle later.” Dean waves him off casually as Adam takes a seat on his bed, his head in his hands.

 

“This is how I die, you’re going to get us killed.”

 

“When have I ever put is in a dangerous situation?”

 

“You are joking right?”

 

“Ok, when have I ever put us in a dangerous situation that I wasn’t confident that we couldn’t get out of?”

 

“Constantly!” Adam shouts as Dean hits the button to open the door to their shared room. Dean runs out into the hall and quickly adjusts his steps to look more militant. Adam is a few paces behind him and muttering under his breath.

 

“Where do you think the dining hall is?” Dean asks as they walk around the First Order base. He takes the dark halls, everything in shades of chrome, grays, and black.

 

“Are you really thinking about food right now?” Adam keeps tugging at the hem of his shirt as he walks in order to pull it down and cover more of his thin torso.

 

“You aren’t? Tuck your shirt in, they’re gonna notice how out of place the both of us are.”

“Never thought I would see the day where you’re the one lecturing me.” Adam and Dean turn a corner, nodding their heads to a group of passing storm troopers. The storm troopers stay in their formation, ignoring the two men. Dean shrugs and keeps walking, peeking into windows on doors and trying to find his way towards food.

 

“Brilliant strategist remember.”

 

“We’re definitely dying.”

 

* * *

 

Aidan sits in his room, his feet tucked under his legs as he worked on cleaning a part for his X-Wing. He was not bitter, he was above things like that. He heard of the new recruitments and the mission that the General had sent them on. It wasn’t his place to speak up on matters out of his station but there was a small part of him that wished he was asked to participate. L3-7 shifted on the floor next to his bed, rolling around and beeping.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aidan replied to the droid without taking his eyes off of the part in his hand.

 

L3-7 stopped whirling around and beeped more frantically at Aidan.

 

“I do have friends, and no I am not asking any of the pilots on a date. You know I have a rule about dating other pilots. It’s too dangerous.” Aidan looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head lightly. Why his droid insisted on speaking to him about things like dates at a time like this was beyond him.

 

The droid picks up its whirling, pacing around from one side of the room to the other as it continues to speak.

 

“Why are you so adamant about this? Why am I even having this discussion with you? Yes I know that we have new recruits, no I did not actually see any of them, but you failed to notice they are off on a mission to infiltrate the First Order. You know, a mission about extracting a fleet,” Aidan looks down at L3-7, the small green and gray druid looks up at him, “not that they would ask the best pilot in the galaxy to help with a mission like that, but what do I know, I’m just a pilot.” Aidan mutters the last bit and goes back to sitting on his bed.

 

Aidan takes the rag and throws it down at L3-7, “also stop worrying about me so much, I’m perfectly fine with you being my friend and I plan to keep it that way.”

 


End file.
